Scar Tissue
by sailorbutts
Summary: It isn't intentional. Just about none of Effy's hook-ups are ever really intentional, but this one's a little bit different. One-shot, girl on girl.


Effy is the girl dressed in black. She's the girl with the brown hair that shimmers in the evening showers; the skinny, attractive girl with the lifeless pair of stunning eyes; the dark, mysterious girl that everybody loves but nobody _loves_. She is, as a certain Katie Fitch would say, a fucking cliché. It's what she always has been, what she always will be. She knows that.

She knows it _somewhere_. She knows it somewhere dark, somewhere hidden, and somewhere about as easily accessible as whatever ridiculous treasure Indiana Jones was so willing to die for. It's protected by booby traps, guarded by ghosts, locked away by riddles, and she gave up on it so long ago she's beginning to forget it's there. She's beginning to forget it exists at all. Someone reminds her.

It isn't intentional. Just about none of Effy's hook-ups are ever _really _intentional, but this one's a little bit different. It's pretty much as unintentional as any sense of the word can imply, and it doesn't even try to get a _little_ bit more logical as the night drags on. Statistically speaking, this is bullshit – everything's a choice, just good ones and bad ones – but statistically speaking there's a fair chance that Effy's stupid. Effy isn't stupid.

So it starts with a cigarette and ends with a tongue, but honestly, a lot of things do. Her ass makes the acquaintance of a stool that is reasonably comfortable despite its dubious structural integrity and her own tongue, first, makes the acquaintance of tobacco for the first time that evening. Her lungs feel pleasantly heavy and she weaves an empty shot glass through her fingers. She pinches the bridge of her nose aggressively and her head pounds like a fucking drum and someone snatches her cigarette from her sluggish grip.

Needless to say, Effy is less than chuffed, but when she sees the culprit, she opts for forgiveness. A yellow-haired girl smirks one of those smirks that you simply can't help but return, and Effy falls right for it. A puff of smoke parts the girl's lips and she hands the cigarette back.

"Your make-up's all messed up and your eyes're all puffy, love."

She ruffles a bit of Effy's hair up in a soft sort of way that she can't help but think of as _brotherly_. It annoys her a little bit at first – the gentleness, the inability to stop smiling, the random fucking kindness – but she grows used to it quickly.

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

Effy shakes her head. "No. And I wouldn't tell a fucking stranger anyway."

The weird part is that the blonde girl doesn't frown. And that's what makes Effy begin to pay attention to her, actually. It's what makes her notice that she's quite tall and slim and has a few freckles on her nose that are cute without being too much. Her eyes are green and soft and she wears her emotions on the sleeve of her varsity jacket. She's one of those girls that make you wonder, and Effy is beginning to wonder.

"Don't you think strangers're the best people to tell?"

And _that_ is when Effy decides she likes this girl. That's when she decides – because statistically speaking, everything is a decision – fuck all, there isn't a reason why she's here anyway. The perceptive reader, no doubt, is pleased at this, is thinking, "I knew that! Look at me, I'm so clever!" Now replace that self-satisfaction with a burning shame: you are crippled by your assumption that everything has a purpose or direction. Effy isn't going to let that happen to her anymore.

So it's kind of her first fuck all move of the night to toss her cigarette into an unsuspecting pair of eyes and yank the girl's face into hers. Maybe because she's never kissed a girl before, or maybe because she's fucking sick of Cook loving her, or of loving Freddie herself. Maybe because she has all this love for so many people, and no idea what the fuck to do with it. Maybe because this is all she knows. It's just one of those fuck all things, and she can feel the other girl doing it too. They're going to fuck all together, two strangers, just the way she likes it. Only a little bit different this time.

It's fumbled and fast, quite as usual, but unusually deliberate and gentle, too. They're going to the toilets but the blonde isn't _pulling_ at her hand, she's _holding_ it. She's walking into a stall but she isn't forcing them both in, she's waiting. And she's smiling, too, but it isn't toothy, nor is it feral. The lust is there, of course, but it's not all there is, and Effy doesn't know how to feel about that. It's just so _different_.

Her thoughts meander somewhat aimlessly under the influence of her less than healthy blood alcohol level until a red hot feeling jolts her back to the present. Her fingers are brushing under fabric and over shoulders that are softer than anything Effy's ever touched before. She's intrigued, really; she loses her own palms far, far along the girl's arms and feels her shiver. Slender hands pull shirts over heads and Effy is beginning to see what it means to kiss someone softly. Their lips press together and pull away again, and press together and pull away again. They're taking their time, and it's a bit lovely.

Effy has her hands in her hair and her face somewhere near it too. Her hair is fucking lush, something about stroking it is strangely therapeutic. And there are fingers snaking into her pants that just about put the icing on the fucking cake. Effy's fairly certain she's never heard herself so loudly before.

After that it's the usual wrap-up-and-go, which is a bit weird after how gentle that entire thing was, but it's a bit different this time. It's a bit different because zipping up those jeans is throwing her back into a cage and locking it. It's a bit different because Effy speaks.

"This is a bit mental, but I didn't catch your name."

She feels stupid the minute she says it. The blonde just smiles.

"Faye."

Effy breathes. Effy breathes but she barely can. "That was probably some of the best sex I've ever had, Faye." She pauses. "I'm Effy."

Faye looks a bit startled for a second, but then she nods. "Later, Effy."

And Effy begins to wonder.

* * *

**A/N: **I honestly have nooooo idea where this came from. It just came, and I just wrote it. Didn't think it should be M because it wasn't exactly explicit? I know the ending wasn't too fab but that's kind of my weakest point. Not good with endings. But I'm curious about your thoughts.


End file.
